Las Perdidas
by Lilikoi2
Summary: Sophie arrives in Barcelona to visit her sister, determined to prove to herself that she can be capable and independent. Sian is beautiful, confident and sure she has her life worked out ...
1. Chapter 1

1.

Sophie wasn't new to being lost. Far from it, in fact. She had a long history of losing her way, as her Mum would regrettably delight in telling anyone who stood still long enough to listen. Amongst her favourite tales of Sophie's incompetence were the ones where she, as a child, would wander off from her family on shopping outings, only to completely lose her bearings within a few minutes and Sally's name would have to be called over the crackly shop tannoy. Sally would then be presented with a bawling child at the front desk often accompanied by a balloon tied to her wrist from some well-meaning member of staff – a futile attempt to calm the inconsolable infant. 'We should've just tied a balloon to you when we went out, eh Soph?' she'd say cheerfully, enjoying her own story. 'We'd know where you were then.'

But balloon wrist-accessories quickly fell out of favour as Sophie grew up, and since moving away from home she had gotten lost on many more occasions with varying degrees of embarrassment and inconvenience, the worst of which Sophie would probably categorise as the one that involved her trying to get into someone else's bed in her student accommodation, thinking it was her own, whilst they were in it. She had a terrible tendency to wander at night in a semi-dreamlike state, walking a completely different path in reality to the one she was walking in her dream. If she was lucky she would just be padding down the dimly lit corridor of her apartment building. If she was not lucky, she would be outside, without a key, and with very little on.

Yet despite all of this experience in the field of unfamiliar terrain, being lost in a foreign country was a little more unnerving. There was no legible street signage, no friendly passerby to offer directions, no wifi signal to call up GPS, or, as a last resort, her mother.

Sophie stopped in front of a building she may or may not have passed at least three times on her meandering circuit. Goddamn if every street in the old part of Barcelona didn't look exactly the same: tall, sun-worn buildings with brightly painted window shutters and ornate balconies of curling metal. The sun was high and perspiration was breaking out on her skin, collecting in her hair and trickling in tiny beads down her sternum. She squinted at the crudely drawn map she had created under Rosie's directions over the phone. Her writing was scruffy and scrawled and the bright sun made the white paper gleam in a blinding and thoroughly unhelpful way.

'36' she read, jotted casually in the bottom left-hand corner of the page. She glanced at the dull brass digits of the door in front of her.

'36' they said back.

Sophie smiled, smugly folding up the paper and tucking it into her bag. 'You'll never find it Soph,' Rosie had insisted, offering to meet her at the airport as they arranged her visit. Sophie had defiantly refused, assuring Rosie that she was no longer a baby, and therefore perfectly capable of locating her apartment, thankyouverymuch. Sophie pressed the stiff button to the side of the door, picturing Rosie's bewildered expression when she saw her arrive without assistance _and_ on time.

But the button didn't yield to her depression. Sophie sighed heavily. She could feel the skin of her exposed shoulders beginning to overheat and burn. But as she began to reach for her phone to dial Rosie she felt the presence of someone advancing behind her. She turned to look.

A girl, probably of Sophie's age, walked up to the heavy door. She was blonde and unquestioningly beautiful. Her eyes were huge, heavily strung with long eyelashes and her skin shone clear and bronzed like she was made of sunlight. She smiled at Sophie, unlocking the door with a large, bronze key and motioning for Sophie to go ahead.

Sophie remained motionless and stared. The girl pointed at the buzzer. 'Está roto,' she said.

Sophie's fingers twitched as she considered extracting her Spanish phrasebook from her bag. She glanced through the open door to see a small, sun-drenched courtyard with steps leading up to the apartments that surrounded it. She smiled back at the girl as if she had understood her comment. 'Gracias,' Sophie said, in her best Spanish accent, allowing the girl to hold the door open for her as she stepped through. It would be easier to call Rosie from the courtyard, away from the noise of the street.

The girl shut the door behind her. She wiggled her fingers at Sophie as a goodbye before ascending the right-hand steps and disappearing through a blue door. Sophie watched her legs until they were gone, soft, tan skin exposed by the extreme shortness of her denim shorts, muscles flexing and contracting with each step they took.

Sophie shook her head and reached for her phone.

- Rosie, guess where I am?'

- Hmm ... your flight landed at 11.04 in Barcelona and it's now ... 13.29. So I guess ... Bavaria?

- Shut up, I'm outside

- Really? _– squeal – _I'll let you in hold on ...

_... Pause..._

- Did you do it?

- Yeah, are you in?

- Well, I'm sort of already in. I'm in the courtyard bit

- ... Soph?

- Yeah?

- ... I don't have a courtyard

- ... what?

- O-M-G Soph, you're lost aren't you?

- ... no

- You are _so_ lost

- I ... well ... It's not my fault, everywhere here looks the flippin' same!

- I'll come find you, where are you?

- Hang on, I'll just go back onto the street and call you.

Sophie irritably shoved the phone back into her bag and walked back to the door, pulling on the brass knob in the centre of the door, briefly wondering why European countries insisted on making mechanisms as simple as door handles complicated by putting them in bizarre places. But much like the buzzer on the other side, the door refused to respond to her touch. She yanked harder. Nothing happened. Muttering and tucking her bag under her arm she tightened both fists around the handle and lifted her leg, pressing the sole of her flip-flop against the adjacent wall and pulling as hard as she could. She felt the muscles around her ribcage straining. And the door remained securely shut.

Sophie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Then, in a desperate frenzy she pounded maniacally against the solid oak with her fists, appealing to the outside world to release her from her domestic prison. This elaborate display was executed with just the right frequency and force to set off the security alarm.

At the ear-splitting sound Sophie sprang back from the door, suitably alarmed, and looked on helplessly as a middle-aged woman from the nearest apartment appeared and advanced urgently towards her, gesticulating furiously and demanding (probably) to know what was going on. 'Cómo diablos?' she shouted as she got closer and closer.

'I ... No soy,' Sophie stammered, ' ... um ... aquí ...' her mind raced, trying to remember anything from the year worth of Spanish lessons she had endured in school before deciding that it wasn't her forte. 'Estoy ... perdida.'

The woman spoke very quickly and angrily, stringing together what Sophie assumed were profanities and threats, all yelled above the ridiculous volume of the alarm. 'Propiedad privada_ spanishspansishspanish_ te advierto _spanishspanish _la policia!' was all Sophie made out.

Probably intrigued by the explosion of activity outside, the beautiful girl with the long tanned legs emerged through her blue door and surveyed the scene from the top of her steps. Sophie looked towards her desperately, and could've sworn that she saw the girl smirk. Sophie's dire straits _amused_ her. The girl casually descended the stairs and wandered over to the door, where she tapped a code on a side-panel and the infernal alarm racquet ceased. Sophie felt it ringing in her ears even after it had stopped.

'Estás perdida?' the girl asked, looking at Sophie, her eyes shining with humour.

'Yes!' Sophie exclaimed, finally recognising a verb, 'I mean ... sí.'

'English?' the girl asked, her smile widening.

Sophie nodded apologetically. She always felt like that on holiday – embarrassed of her nationality.

'Gracias Senora Loya, no te preocupes,' the girl told the woman, whose glare remained on Sophie for a few long seconds before she eventually retreated back into the building. She turned back to Sophie. 'Me too,' she revealed.

Sophie felt relief wash over her like a changing tide, drawing up the beach in steady laps, cooling her skin and calming her erratic heartbeat. 'Thank _god_,' she breathed. 'I'm so lost, I'm looking for my sister's apartment.'

The girl nodded, the messy pony tail at the back of her head bouncing with the motion. 'Do you have an address?'

'Sort of,' Sophie answered, fishing out her list of directions and handing it over.

The girl smiled as she read them, slightly extending a moist pink tongue that she pressed her front teeth against.

'Go on tell me – how wrong have I got it?' Sophie asked, observing the girl's face. The way her eyes darted as she read, the line of diagonal shadow from the bridge of her nose to her cheek, the soft strands of hair that curled and wisped from behind her tiny ears.

The girl looked up from the paper. 'I really don't see how you could've got it more wrong,' she admitted.

Sophie shook her head at herself, stamping her right foot slightly in irritation.

The girl watched her, biting her bottom lip like she wanted to say something but didn't know if she should.

'Well, can you at least let me out?' Sophie asked, pointing to the stoical door.

'Sure,' the girl answered. She looked down then back up. 'If you need help getting there ... I could show you if you want?' she offered.

Sophie paused. 'Really?' she asked, the prospect of assistance ever more appealing as she considered how Rosie would relish the opportunity for a rousing chorus of the I-told-you-so's. 'Okay,' she resigned. 'But not because I need help,' she assured the girl, proudly.

'Of course not,' the girl said in mock-seriousness, holding up her hands.

'But ... the company would be nice,' Sophie continued as Sian drew out her key to allow for Sophie's passage for the second time that day. Sophie gratefully stepped back out onto the street. 'My name's Sophie,' she added as an after-thought, the bustling sounds of urban life surrounding her again.

'Sian,' the girl replied, smiling as she shut the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

'So, this is your first time in Barcelona?' Sian asked Sophie as they sauntered down the street in the sun.

Honestly, it wasn't. It wasn't even that long ago since she'd been here last. But there was something about the ways cities twisted and turned; how they camouflaged themselves with the decorations of the seasons; how they morphed between scales and materials that she just couldn't commit the paths she'd walked to memory. The downside of this was that she invariably never remembered the location of that charming little patisserie/cafe /vintage store/amusing graffiti she'd been banging on at people to visit; but the plus side was that she didn't always have to been taken somewhere new for her to be impressed.

But she recognised the feel of the place - the wide main streets with the narrower, winding ones branching off them that constricted and then expanded again into squares with fountains and cathedrals. She looked up. Above them mysterious grotesque gargoyle heads appeared at the ends of stone gutters, eroded into even further distortion by centuries of rain and sun.

Sophie scrunched her up her features. 'No,' she admitted, fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she walked. 'When Rosie – that's my sister – was thinking of movin' here, we were down here quite a lot. Me, me Mam and me Dad, findin' a suitable place. Makin' sure she wasn't carryin' on with any dodgy 'señors' to get a discount rate,' she grinned.

'Got a reputation has she?' Sian asked.

'Could say that,' Sophie agreed.

The central paving was strewn with midday diners, draining the dregs of their wine before they had to return to what was left of the day as waiters hung by the archways of restaurants tapping their feet, eager for them to leave. Children played in the shade of the plane trees, chasing each other through the dappled sunlight and giggling with the simple humour and delight that you lose the second you hit fourteen.

'Well, this is the 'Barrio Gotico',' Sian explained, 'it's the old part of the city.'

Sophie nodded, her flip-flops making sticking sounds as her heels adhered to their inner soles in the heat. 'I've been to this bit before,' she revealed.

'Yeah? Did you like it?' Sian asked.

Sophie nodded again, brushing her finger tips along the rough stone of a building as they walked past it. 'I loved it,' she admitted. 'I remember ...' Sophie stopped speaking. The girl was just doing her a favour, she reasoned. She probably didn't want to hear trivial details of Sophie's previous visits. 'Never mind,' she said with a shy smile.

'No go on,' Sian encouraged, her eyes bright and searching.

'Well ...' Sophie seemed unsure, 'I remember this sculpture, in some water, in a square. I ... I liked it,' she said with a shrug, failing to go into the intricate detail of exactly why she had found the place so poignant.

'Doesn't really narrow it down,' Sian said, her expression turning vaguely apologetic.

'It doesn't matter,' Sophie dismissed the whole notion. 'I'm sure I'll find it again one day.' It was a lie, she didn't trust her ability to find it ever again.

Sian fell quiet briefly then, like she was searching her internal database of Barcelona locations, cross-referencing her files: water/statue/square.

Sophie found herself watching her closely – her gaze lingering on the way her body moved as she walked, how she bit her lip and scratched at the tip of her nose as she thought – then looked away bashfully as Sian made eye-contact. 'How ... um ... how far away are we?' Sophie asked, in an effort to absorb the silence.

'Not much further,' Sian revealed.

Sophie stopped walking and Sian glanced mischievously back over her shoulder at her. 'But you said I'd got it _really_ wrong!' Sophie whined.

Sian bit her tongue between her teeth in a way that Sophie thought was more adorable than she could've ever imagined, watching as she slipped her thumbs through her denim belt loops. 'I _may_ have jus' been messin' with ya,' Sian said, curving her spine so her hips were thrust forward slightly and twisting her torso from side to side.

'Make a habit of messin' with complete strangers do ya?' Sophie asked, folding her arms.

Sian shrugged, 'Only when I think it'll be funny,' she answered.

'Lucky for you I have an excellent sense of humour,' Sophie said, beginning to walk again.

'Well I've always been lucky,' Sian said, walking beside her for a mere five paces before stopping again. 'Your destination madam,' she said, extending a palm towards a door to her left.

Sophie noticed the 36 on the door, commiserating herself at least having got the number correct.

'You went west at this intersection instead of east,' Sian said, pointing to Sophie's map. 'Not that I blame you, the writin's pretty awful.'

'That's _my_ writing,' Sophie told her.

Sian bit her lip. 'Sorry,' she said, before pausing and quirking a sceptical eyebrow. '... really?'

'Yes _really_,' Sophie answered, snatching the paper back and rapping the door to the correct number 36 sharply with her knuckles.

'Don't get _angry_,' Sian told her. 'I think it's cute.'

Though Sophie was sure Sian meant 'cute' in a kitten-falling-into-a-sock-drawer sort of way instead of an I-find-indecipherable-handwriting-really-attractive sort of way, it didn't stop the base of her stomach from lurching.

The violent sound of a door being wrenched open made Sophie jump, and only jump further when she was immediately admonished: 'Sophie!' Rosie exclaimed, eyes wide and face pale, 'What do the words 'I'll call you right back' mean to you?' she demanded, extending her arms and pulling Sophie into a brief but unpleasantly tight hug, before releasing her and glaring at her sternly.

Sophie screwed her eyes shut as she remembered. 'Sorry Rosie,' she said, opening one eye with caution. 'I got ... distracted.' She looked down towards the floor, her gaze skimming down the length of Sian's right leg as she did so.

'So I see,' Rosie said, glancing Sian up and down, a smirk creeping across her full red lips.

'Leave it out,' Sophie mouthed menacingly, knowing that exact thought progression that was parading with unwarranted conviction through her sister's mind.

Rosie ignored the threat, extending a hand towards Sian. 'Ho-la, me lla-mo es Ro-sie,' she said, speaking loudly and slowly as if Sian was both deaf and stupid.

'Pleased to meet you,' Sian replied. 'Though it's just 'me llamo' not 'me llamo es',' she corrected.

Rosie blinked. 'Oh my god,' she exclaimed dramatically, 'I've spent _hours_ doing grammar with Paulo and I still can't get hello right,' she despaired.

'Oh right, _grammar_. Is that what they call in Spain?' Sophie teased, knowingly.

'Shut your face,' Rosie said, not succeeding in suppressing a smile, 'He is _gorgeous_ though. And to think back home I was going out with _Jason Grimshaw_,' she shuddered before opening her mouth and pointing a finger towards it to indicate some sort of gastric upset.

'Well, I'll leave you two to catch up,' Sian said, backing away from the door into the light of the street.

Sophie whipped round to face her. 'Really? ... um, you have to go now?' she asked. Her arms and hands felt strange, full of a tingling energy, like they wanted to reach out and grab Sian and stop her from leaving. But they remained by her side.

'Yeah I should ... y'know, things to do,' Sian said, retreating ever further. 'But ... you know where to find me,' she added with a grin.

'Yeah right,' Sophie muttered to herself, her mind already drawing a serene and uninterrupted blank as she tried to mentally retrace her steps.

'Hasta luego!' Sian shouted as she turned and walked back up the street, fluttering a hand in their direction as a wave.

'Sayonara!' Rosie shouted after her.

'Rosie,' Sophie said with a disparaging shake of her head, 'that's Japanese. Seriously, what's Paulo been teachin' ya?'


End file.
